I’m just a coyote who ranges alone
I must move on and on lest my presence be known
By those who would hurt me and invade my home
So I’m doomed forever to roam… just roam
I wander over the great Southwest
To you I seem free! Just another roving pest
But, tho’ I’m a gypsy by every action and deed
Sorrow grows in my heart like a terrible weed
Each day brings new sadness, for I’m hated by all
Even cast out by my own… Who each night I call
As I cry in the moonlight, my muzzle to the sky
I wonder… who else… feels the same as I?
Aren’t we all, somehow, the same in a way?
Don’t we all look for happiness day after day?
So if I should awaken you in the dead of some night
With a mournful how lab out my plight…
Think of me as your heart… cryin’ that night!
This poem continues in one of George’s books – you’ll love some of the others as well as the stories from my first book “True Stories and Rhymes from the Range”
This story is continued in George’s Books
Contact George Fischer to buy his books!